


sometimes

by historiologies



Series: the space between us [1]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 13:58:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11830158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/historiologies/pseuds/historiologies
Summary: Sometimes there is no story, no dramatic climax, no grand narrative marked by the swelling of a string section.(a prologue)





	sometimes

**Author's Note:**

> This is an intro for a longer fic, but can be read separately. Your typical college AU, of sorts. LOL. The second fic will be posted... soon. Ish. :))
> 
> Happy first anniversary to Soonwoonet, my family, my loves, my happiness. You have no idea what you all have come to mean to me, how your presence makes my days brighter, how you've all made me laugh and made me cry and just made me feel like a part of something good. Thank you for everything :) I love being your momther. To many more line sticker moments and *katsu crawling emoticons* together.

The biggest things aren’t always marked by big occasions. Wonwoo knows this intimately. Sometimes the things that end up the most important to you are the things that start out small. 

 

Sometimes you just see a boy across campus with bleached blonde hair falling into his eyes handing out flyers. Sometimes you find yourself making your way to the unstable looking card table set up in front of the library, trying your best to look like you’re just casually passing by. Sometimes you get a flyer thrust into your hands and a friendly voice in your ear asking if you’d be interested in joining the school’s dance org. Sometimes you look up and find yourself, the person with possibly the worst coordination in the world, saying you’d love to, just to make that boy’s already bright smile widen even more.

 

(Wonwoo would last a paltry three months in the dance club before tapping out, but not before learning who that boy was, and becoming his friend. His name was Soonyoung.)

 

The thing is, sometimes friendships peter out, and in the months following his quitting the dance club, Wonwoo would think of Soonyoung and feel sad, but there’s just no way he’s going to pretend to be interested in spending his afternoons learning routines to Top 40 hits any longer. He’s sad for awhile through the break until the start of the following semester, when someone plops into the seat next to him in his American history class, pokes him in the side. He looks up in alarm, only to see a familiar pout and only to hear a familiar voice whine about never seeing him anymore. 

 

(Wonwoo replies in a manner he perceives to be nonchalant, but something inside him clutches at the thought of Soonyoung arriving at dance club practices and looking to see if Wonwoo’s there.)

 

Sometimes you have to accept that you have terrible timing. 

 

(Soonyoung would always invite Wonwoo to lunch since their history class was a late morning period, and Wonwoo would always think of saying yes until he sees Seokmin just outside the classroom, waiting for Soonyoung. He tells himself to always err on the side of self-preservation, and when he sees Soonyoung’s hand reach for Seokmin’s, he deliberately looks away.)

 

Sometimes you have to be pushed into things. Or in some cases, pulled.

 

(One day, Wonwoo’s arm is hijacked, along with the rest of his body, and he opens his mouth to exclaim in discomfort, but before a single sound comes out of him, Soonyoung whines to him about starvation and wanting to try out the food at the new stall in the cafeteria. Wonwoo looks around for Seokmin, but he’s nowhere to be found. He wonders if he should ask, but he chooses not to. 

 

If Soonyoung wanted to say something, he would. Talking is not one of his weak points.

 

He finds out that they stopped dating the previous week over oven-baked mini pizzas and fruit juice. It wasn’t anything dramatic or what-not, Soonyoung says flippantly, sucking sauce off his thumb while saying so. They were just better off as friends.

 

Wonwoo nods, and Soonyoung smiles at him, calls him a good listener. He stuffs the last of the pizza in his mouth and gets up to leave, but not before asking Wonwoo for his number. So that we can study together, Soonyoung says casually.

 

Of course, Wonwoo says. Studying. He can do that.)

 

Sometimes, things change.

 

Sometimes it can take forever. Or just a really long time.

 

(Over the course of more or less two to three years, Soonyoung and Wonwoo become very good friends, close friends, even. Wonwoo would consider Soonyoung his best friend if he didn’t believe the term was outdated and rightfully banished to grade school playground memories. Nonetheless, over time, they become accustomed to each other’s presence. Wonwoo even agrees to return to the dance club, on the strict condition that he’s there to be the documentation guy and not to be another dancer in the group. Soonyoung giggles, but concurs. 

 

They schedule classes around common times so that when they’re not cramming papers and last minute studying in Soonyoung’s tiny little campus apartment, they’re wandering around aimlessly in Wonwoo’s beat-up Toyota, Soonyoung fidgeting in the passenger’s seat, eyes always searching for inspiration in the world around them.

 

Wonwoo’s eyes are always steadily on the figure next to him.)

 

But sometimes, it can happen in an instant.

 

(Wonwoo is hunched over his American literature notes, one of his last classes before graduating, the warmth of Soonyoung slumped against his side already a familiar weight against him. The thrumming of his heart every time it happens has never subsided; he’s only grown accustomed to it. He hums quietly under his breath, a playful little tune off the top of his head, as his pencil marks the important points with asterisks. He’d done away with highlighters in sophomore year.

 

Wonwoo?

 

Yes? He’s distracted but he replies anyway, dates and names of authors and publications tumbling around in his head as he tries to ignore how soft Soonyoung looks with eyes heavy-lidded and his lips in a pout. 

 

He also tries to ignore how Soonyoung’s face is inching closer and closer to his.

 

How come you never tried to kiss me?

 

Wonwoo’s mouth drops open, and he would have stammered, if Soonyoung hadn’t leaned in to kiss him himself.)

 

But most of the time, the more things change, the more they remain the same.

 

Sometimes there is no story, no dramatic climax, no grand narrative marked by the swelling of a string section.

 

(Soonyoung is a vision when he dances, all muscle and movement and sharpness. He’s one of the best dancers in the whole school, and during the big dance concert in his senior year he gets a whole five minute solo to himself.

 

He spins and curves and leaps, and Wonwoo is sure that every single person in the auditorium had their breath taken away. He’s seen Soonyoung rehearse this a thousand times and it still gets to him like it’s the first time.

 

When he strikes his final pose, Wonwoo is the first one out of his seat. Soonyoung looks out into the crowd and searches for him, smile breaking out in glee when he spots the obnoxious banner Wonwoo is waving over his head, the bright glitter making up his name showering the poor lady in front of him with sparkles.)

 

Sometimes, things just happen.

 

(I Heart Soonyoung, the banner says.)

 

Sometimes you just fall in love.


End file.
